


Day 31- Spanking

by Fandompuff



Series: Kinktober 2020 [31]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Aftercare, Arranged Marriage, Cuddling & Snuggling, F/M, Married Couple, Married Sex, Spanking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-05
Updated: 2021-02-05
Packaged: 2021-03-17 13:48:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 728
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29226489
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fandompuff/pseuds/Fandompuff
Relationships: Tywin Lannister & Reader, Tywin Lannister/Reader
Series: Kinktober 2020 [31]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1980952
Kudos: 18





	Day 31- Spanking

Tywin Lannister did not like to be challenged.

That didn’t stop you smirking over your goblet at him, your brow cocked high as you leaned back in your chair. “You can’t think of an answer, can you?” You grinned, draining your cup. “Can you, Lord Husband?”

He pinched the bridge of his nose. “I warn you, wife,” he said lowly, “I am not in the mood for your games tonight,”

You let out a laugh. “It isn’t my fault your grandson’s a little shit and his father nigh on bankrupted the kingdom with his feasting and jousting and whoring,”

Tywin’s jaw clenched. He set his pen down and folded his hands in his lap for a moment, before crooking his finger at you. “Come here,” he said, and you grinned, hurrying over to his side of the desk, leaning your hip against it slightly. “You’re particularly impertinent tonight, wife,” he mused aloud.

“Isn’t that a wife’s job, husband?” You smirked, biting your lip slightly.

“No… a wife’s job is to obey and provide heirs,” he quipped, though he held a slight glint in his eye that disagreed with his words.

“Can’t provide any heirs, husband, when you haven’t warmed my bed in weeks,” you shifted on the spot. “A-and you already have heirs, my lord,” you murmured, voicing a worry that had been nagging at you for weeks.

“Cersei is the Queen mother, Jaime is the commander of the king’s guard, and Tyrion is too busy whoring to take over Casterly rock,” he said, tipping your chin up so your eyes met. “But you are right, YN. There can be no heirs if I’m not in your bed,” you smiled softly at him as he trailed his knuckle over your cheek. “That being said… you were still impertinent before, weren’t you?” You bit your lip and nodded, unable to suppress the smile tugging at your lips.

“What do you propose to do about it, My Lord Husband,” you said, the note of arousal evident in your voice. “Are you going to take your belt to me?” You whispered in his ear, nibbling the lobe slightly. Weeks ago, Tywin had been in a foul temper, and you arguably in a worse one. In releasing your frustrations out on each other, Tywin had struck your arse, and the noise you had made was certainly not befitting of a lady.

“As a matter of fact, I am. Off you go to my chambers,” you nodded and hurried off, practically tearing off your dress and chemise, kneeling on the bed, resting on your folded arms. You heard the thud of Tywin's boots as he entered the room and shut and bolted the door, heard his belt slide out of its loops. You shuddered as he ran the leather over the globes of your arse, pushing back. He smirked at you for a moment, before his mouth set into a snarl and he brought the belt down on your cheeks, hard.

Squeaking, you bit your lip, arching your back and swaying your hips, already desperate for another lick of the belt. Tywin smirked, hitting you again, before rubbing away the sting, his hand cool against your hot flesh. “It seems you’re enjoying this, wife,” he observed, dipping his fingers into you briefly, before smacking your arse with his hand. You gasped and let out a wanton moan, tipping your head back.

“Oh, I am!” You called out, brows furrowing as you cling onto each and every sensation. Tywin smirked, licking his fingers clean before striking you thrice with the belt, each hit in rapid succession, the sting radiating over your sore cheeks in the best way possible.

By the time he deemed you suitably punished for ‘impertinence’, you pitched forward, tears streaming down your face as he stroked his elegant hands down your back, over your cheeks and back up again. “‘M alright,” you mumbled just as the mattress dipped with his weight, rolling into his side, his clothes scratching your bare skin. 

“You’re a good wife, YN,” he murmured, standing to strip, before slipping under the covers with you, blowing out the candles. You nodded, nuzzling into his side.

“I figured there’s no getting out of a political marriage once the deal’s done… so we might as well enjoy one another, especially seeing as everyone else in this forsaken Keep is awful,”


End file.
